


war of the robins - missing scene

by drakefeathers



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 05:09:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17277653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drakefeathers/pseuds/drakefeathers
Summary: Because Damian hasn't challenged all of the former Robins yet. He still has to defeat Stephanie Brown.





	war of the robins - missing scene

**Author's Note:**

> This was written circa 2012 (oh my god), back around issues #10-12 of Batman & Robin v2.

 

It had started out as a good night for Stephanie. She finished all her homework before the sun went down, got in a good few hours of butt-whoopin’, took down a ring of counterfeiters, and on her way home she stopped a mugging outside a 24-hour diner and the waitress who saw the scene from inside offered her a late-night breakfast on the house. _Insisted_ on it. 

 Steph thought that this would end as a good night, too, but that hopeful thought was dashed before she even dug into her waffles and bacon, because the bell on the door jingled and none other than Damian Wayne, as Robin, strode into the diner, wearing his annoyed pug scowl that _never_ boded well for her in the past.

“Spoiler,” he greeted her stiffly. 

She waved her fork at him in greeting. Her dark mask was pushed up halfway, just enough for her to eat, and she smiled at him. “Hey, Robin. Want some breakfast?”

Damian frowned and turned his nose up at the greasy—but oh-so-delicious—food on her plate. “I’ll pass.” 

He casted a disparaging glance around at the scuffed tiles and worn chairs, acting like the whole place was diseased.  There wasn’t anyone else in the diner. Just the two of them and the elderly waitress from before, who was currently dozing in another booth. There had to be a cook in the back, but judging by how quiet the place was, they probably asleep, too.

“So what brings you here?” Steph asked around a mouthful of hash browns as Damian sat down in the opposite side of the booth. “Miss me?”

He crossed his arms and glared at her haughtily. “Hardly.”

This was the first time in weeks that Steph was seeing any of Gotham’s other vigilantes face-to-face. She was busy lately, and so was everyone else. Ridiculously so. Like, sheesh, she holed away in her house for a little while to catch up on schoolwork and now suddenly the others were acting like they’d forgotten she ever existed?

Rude. 

They kept ignoring her calls, claiming it was because they were tied up with all that Court of the Owls business. Except they didn’t even tell her about that until _after_ the fact. She gladly would’ve dragged herself away from her textbooks and helped out if they had just _called her_.

But, whatever. If they wanted to be that way, fine. Spoiler could fight crime on her own, thank you very much.

She missed Cass the most, though. The other girl had dropped off the face of the Earth for a deep undercover mission, and Steph had no idea when she’d be back. 

“So, if you’re not here for the pleasure of my company…” Steph said musingly. “What’s going on? Got a mission you need help on?”

“I’m here to challenge you to a duel.”

Steph blinked. _Oh-kay_. “Like the old West? Pistols at twenty paces kind of thing? I don’t know if we’ll have the space for it in here.”

He stood up and planted his hands against the table, rattling the salt and pepper shakers, and scowled down at her. “No. A fight. I’m going to prove that I’m the best Robin by defeating all those who came before me. You’re next on the list.”

Steph didn’t know how to respond to that. Was she supposed to feel… provoked? Angry? She just sat there stunned, with a forkful of waffle stalled halfway to her mouth and dripping syrup onto the table. She was hovering somewhere between incredulous and a bit _honoured_ that he actually thought to include her as a target in his weird rampage, considering how little respect he seemed to have for her. It was almost… sweet?

“Umm,” she said. “Are you serious?”

“I have already bested Red Robin.”

“Wait, _what?_ ” He beat up Tim? “Is he okay?”

Damian just smirked. “Are you ready to fight or not? I don’t have all night. Not that I’ll expect this to take long…”

Steph frowned. Damian obviously wasn’t going to give up on this duel thing… She had to think of something.

“Can you pass me the syrup?” she asked. Damian hesitated, but grudgingly obliged and handed her the bottle. It was a full one, too. Good.

She squirted the syrup in his face. Boy, did he howl and snarl in outrage as he wiped the sticky stuff off and leapt at her, ready to maim.

It was just a good thing that their loud brawling woke up the waitress. She broke the fight up by swatting at the two of them with a broom and telling them to “take it outside”. Damian calmed down enough to listen—probably worried the cops would be called and Daddy Bat wouldn’t be happy at him for causing a commotion like that—and followed Steph out the door.

Then the second they were outside, he tried to kick her in the back. Her _turned_ back. She only managed to dodge because she _knew_ how underhanded he was, and so she predicted the strike and twisted out of the way.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Steph said, blocking the punch that came next. “Can’t we talk about this for a second?”

He was pretty riled up now, and she was worried that if they kept actually _fighting_ then he’d go all Highlander and chop off her head while screaming _“There can be only one!”_

There had to be another solution.

—

“Why are we here?” Damian asked irritably. 

Steph felt around in the darkness for the control panel. She knew it was around here somewhere… Ah!

She flipped the switches one by one and the lights flickered on. “Ta-da.”

Damian seemed just as unimpressed by the arcade as he’d been with the diner. And after all the trouble Steph went to with disabling the security system…

His scowl was only more pronounced in the neon lights. “I don’t see how this fits in to me defeating you.”

Stephanie winced. It was like the boy had gotten even _more_ humourless since the last time she’d seen him. Like her attempts to show him how to act like a kid had been for nothing. She figured it was because Dick had gone back to being Nightwing and Damian was spending most of his time with Bruce now.

She would have to fix this. 

Steph walked over to him, pulling off her mask. “Pfft. I mean, sure, you can beat me in a _fight,_ but what will that prove? Now, if you beat me at DDR… then I’ll _really_ be impressed.”

He raised an eyebrow at her scornfully. “This is moronic.”

“No. C’mon,” she almost pleaded, and she jingled the coins in her hand enticingly. “I’ve got just enough quarters on me for one game. Your duel, your pick.”

For a few seconds Steph thought he would shun the game idea and charge at her, fists flying. She bit her lip, waiting, and was happily surprised when he trudged up and down the arcade, judging each of the video games with a dark glare. He looked a bit uneasy in the unfamiliar territory of _fun._

He seemed interested by the shooting video games with the plastic guns, but ultimately chose the air hockey table. “It’s a sort of strategy game, right?” he asked, examining the different coloured lines crossing the white surface.

“Uh, sort of?” Steph replied, slipping the quarters into the slot before he could change his mind and sliding him a paddle across the table.

He placed a hand over the surface of the table to feel the air flow. “Explain what this is supposed to be.”

“It’s air hockey. Like a table-top version of hockey, the sport with the pucks and the ice—”

“I am aware of what _hockey_ is. It’s idiotic and—”

The plastic puck clattered into his goal slot. “Oops,” Steph said sarcastically. “My hand slipped.”

He let out an annoyed huff, and the game was on.

Steph went easy on him the first couple rounds because it was the first time he’d ever played air hockey before, but after he quickly racked up two points and started smirking she went in for the kill.

Air hockey wasn’t that different from ping-pong, after all. And she was a ping-pong _champ._ But, even though Damian wasn’t experienced in games like this, he was a scarily-coordinated, quick-learning, super-competitive ninja kid and soon the puck was being smacked up and down the table faster and faster until it was almost a blur. A few times it bounced off the sides with such force that it soared through the air into the corner of the room and one of them had to go fetch it before they could continue playing.

The tie-breaking round lasted the longest—nearly ten minutes—and just as Steph was thinking that her arm would fall off, the puck did a tricky bounce and slid into Damian’s goal, breaking the tie and winning her the game. Steph wiped the sweat off her face with the back of her glove and decided against cheering for herself because that would be gloating and Damian was already turning purple with rage.

“I demand a rematch!” he said, slamming a hand against the table.

“Too bad. Out of quarters.” Steph shrugged like the situation was totally out of her hands. “Besides, it’s getting late. Guess we’ll have to postpone the rematch and try again another time.”

“Tomorrow night,” he said, pointing at her threateningly. “Be here, or else.”

She pulled her mask back on. “You bet I will. Loser locks up and turns off the lights, okay?” On her way out the door, she called over her shoulder. “By the way, next time’s my turn to choose, and we’re playing DDR!”


End file.
